


The Sights

by awfulfucker



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drug Use, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, french!tyler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-03-17 00:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awfulfucker/pseuds/awfulfucker
Summary: Tyler is different. He happened to be with the wrong crowd. And look where it got him.Josh is a man of reality, no need for attachment. And look where it got him, as well.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> anna oU-  
> h e l l o,,  
> this is my first public fic and im a lil nervous :') i wanna keep up with this pic for as long as i can but I've got big plot ideas that i wanna incorporate but idk if it'll work out.  
> anygay, please enjoy :')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anna oU-  
> h e l l o,,  
> this is my first public fic and im a lil nervous :') i wanna keep up with this pic for as long as i can but I've got big plot ideas that i wanna incorporate but idk if it'll work out.  
> anygay, please enjoy :')

🌹「 december 16th, year 2010 」🌹

Light rain pattered against the dim lit train cart, the melting icicles cracking against the wind pressure as the speeding train enters the tunnel, contrasting the cloudy natural light to the setting.

The snowy blanket of the heavy populated city layered outside of the train. The weary figure sat close to the plastic clad window, his warm yet cooling breath contacted the now foggy outlook. His thoughts mixed, he couldn't think straight because of the exhaustion. He just hopes he just get home now.

The still framed figure had feminine curled outward lashes, resting on his open slits vision, his whole face was saturated. Underneath the slits were dark grey circles from the disturbed nights, in between was the incline of his red tinted nose, sniffling the smog infected air. Set on top were Elliot framed glasses, color of gunmetal black. Dyed pale chapped rose lips were from the frigid night, slightly parted showing white pearls of teeth, set align.

Tyler positioned in a slight curl of his body, watching the gloomy people sitting innocently, minding their own business not knowing what to come next. For all they know the train could derail, or worse explode. These types of ideas occupied his mind; the paranoia settling in.

As the mindless dark iris's bore into another sliver fraction of society, his head, already settling to another idea, started running without intentional judgment. Trying to figure out everyone's own unique story. He was sometimes good at reading emotions, contradicting with his set aside.

An alien language spoke out from the fuzzy speaker to signal he was at his final stop.

'Just a little longer...' Tyler thought.

His skinny legs carried him out of the automatic closing train doors and towards the ending of the format. Walking slowly, the windows reflected his rugged stature.

There was scratchy shaven dark brunette hair, slightly peeking out of his black beanie. From his dead resting face, his hygiene would match to a corpse. An oversized fading red flannel rested on his lanky frame, black wrist cuffs were presented from his first layer grey pullover sweater folded alongside his tattooed feminine wrists. Tylers layers was also accompanied with tattered faded black skinny jeans that were from cheap shop, further down showed his old black and white vans.

In his opinion, he looked like some poster boy for signs of depression that are shown in preteen hospital room. Better to advertise and not to behold yourself the real thing, right?

Tyler's nightly routine was to contemplate whether to jump at the right moment, from the platform to the oil covered steel rims of the tracks, ever so hoping it would knock him out for good instantly.

Of course without fail, he has to over-think his decision. The expectation of death was terrifying yet satisfying. So many unanswered question if he really did do it.

Tyler was in the 1st district of Paris, France visiting his girlfriend's flat, Jenna. He continued to head back to his apartment after applying for a job at some stank ass taco bell on the outskirts of France near the 8th district. Who knows, small places probably could get you somewhere, or stabbed in the back alley ways while taking out the garbage. He remained his progress to on-spewing thoughts.

Where would he go? Would it be like as if he's sleeping? Is there really a God that would be waiting for him in heaven? Or would Satan be expecting his arrival in hell?

Of course he didn't indulge himself in the foolery of believing of a God. Overall, his opinion was that all of these decision had concrete reasons. It was just the way the world worked. He honestly didn't care for the idea to worship a God, he just wanted this kind of life to be done and over with. He kindly welcomed darkness to consume him. It was conventional that he contradicted himself, he couldn't give less of a shit about religion but yet get so defensive about the subject. Maybe he was still in the instinctual phase of the damage done wmto when he was a kid.

Yet, the expectation had the same outcomes. There was so many explanation and short life spans. It was just the way the world worked, in his eyes.

So what he isn't willingly involved with many over-emotionally inducing routines such as religion and didn't care for many friends, he had his personal overdrawn line.

"Oi, tu vas te faire tuer si vous ne faites pas attention!"

Tyler body suddenly went rigid. He looked up to see a middle-aged man yell before stopping at the edge of the sidewalk in head of the ongoing busy road. He almost walked into traffic without conscience. Idiot.

Tyler muttered, looking back down, "Désolé, désolé, je vais faire attention."

He was only a block away from his apartment, and the cold was getting to his thin boned body. Tyler could feel the wet snow envelop to his broken sole bottom of his shoes, so much for a good 5 year run.

Tyler continued his walk until he reached the double doors of his apartment building.

"God..." He let out a warm sigh.

If he didnt know any better, anything but his life would be bittersweet.

Buzzing from his jean pocket brought him back to his reality, stilling standing in the lobby area of his flat. It was a message.

Jenna:  
J'espère que vous avez rentrés chez eux en toute sécurité. ❤️ Tu me manques déjà. Je te verrai demain. Dors bien, Tyler.

Tyler face pushed into a small smile.

When would she realize his love for her.

Considering it love, in his fragile mind, is something he's appreciative. But having Jenna pleased in exchange for a forming purple black bruise with a outer ring of yellow on his lower back, is in fact something he'd preferred.

There would be off-moments where Jenna would go off on Tyler with her emotions, but of course it's understandable having a boyfriend whose incompetent. It's something he does want others to know, of course people wouldn't understand. Having the only person except you within their life, support you and care for you is something most people in the average society wouldn't get the clear perspective.

Tyler set his phone and his keys out of his fannel jacket onto the small one by one table by his apartment door. His studio room was something he could let out all of his emotion internally and not get judged by within those sacred walls. But then again, the walls had ears that belonged to one man who knew Tyler best.

A man by the nickname of blurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik the ending is a bit rushed,,, isss wahteva at this point. im working on the 2nd chap rn and Oh bOi,, i think i got what it takes.
> 
> Feel free to leave some comments on suggestions &/or kudos :)


	2. Dead Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends and Old ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aUHASDFGHJK,,,  
> Sorry I forgot about this fic :'))
> 
> I've recently gone through some really tough shit dealing with a loss of somebody who I was very close to and just needed time to collect myself.
> 
> So, I was lowkey puttin in some angst with this chapter but nevertheless, ENJOY !!
> 
> Just a reminder I'm gonna switch perspectives with some chapters~

"Merde," mumbled a man, sporting morning breath, rolling over to one side of the bed.

Dramatic lighting from the morning french sun peeking out of the curtains, filled the room, easing into his mind. The sensation of pressure building up behind his eyes and to the temples of his head didn't help from also feeling the sudden warmth of the other side of the bed being occupied. Lying down still, stiff and sore also didn't help jog his memory of last night's activities. Pathetic.

Gentle, warm streams of air ghosted lightly on the bare chest on the same man owning the morning breath. Strands of messy, ash white hair ghosted the sides of the sculpted face. Arms resting side by side above the sleeping man, as well as light kisses being placed on the collarbones and underneath sore muscles.

"Mon ange, c'mon, you can't stay in bed all day." Debby whispered lightly as she trailed from his chest to his mouth.

Disgusting. Joshua craned his head to avoid her kiss. She was always desperate in the morning.

"I thought you'd be hitting the streets about now. What are you still doing here?" soft spoken rumble of his unused voice broke out, not afraid of his cold tone being heard.

He takes the opportunity to sit up, not letting the situation go any further. While sitting up, he takes off the cover to swing his legs over then feel the cold wooden floor against the soles of his feet, waking him up uncomfortably. He tried to attempt this opportunity to stretch but feeling his back beginning to tighten up to form a cramp, he instead walks over to his walk-in closet to see his clothes already ironed and pressed. His irritation peaked out and thought about his maid is actually doing her job, for once.

"Well, you see," Debby paused to avoid eye contact with Joshua's back, her mind going blank for a second.

"I'm out of money, at the moment. My pimp isn't providing me as usual because his other whores holding him out. I was already on the verge to sell my shit for 115€ to some regular at the club."

"Putain..." Joshua mumbles, she was always so blunt and it bothered him; one hand on his hip, tilting his head in frustration. She got herself in this mess, why should he pay the price to clean it?

Debby looks down in shame, he should understand at this point. I mean, considering how long they're known each other. "I know, I know, I'm sorry but I can't afford anything right now. I'm sorry, Joshua, I really am."

"Jesus, Debby..." He's losing his edge on anger and giving in to his thoughts on why he should even care. He could absolutely give up on her because she's not doing anything in return. Why should he care?

It's always been this way. One-sided everything, with Debby. He really could not find it within himself to see the light at the end of the tunnel, with his relationship involving her. What could even be the definition of his contact with her, when the word, "relationship" does not even fit the formula between them.

"Just... get out, Debby. I do not have the mental capacity to even care right now." Josh sits on his side of the bed as he rests his forehead against the curvature of his hand. The headache doubling and getting lightheaded.

He feels the side of the bed shift in weight, suddenly feeling his morning a bit lighter.

Why does it always have to be this way? Why is it always him as the bad guy? Why does he have to be the one with reason? Whatever the case may be, he hates this.

Debby silently puts on her long sleeve crop top on from the nights charade and grey baggy sweatpants from the long past night she's been here. Tieing her short bob in a small ponytail with the bottom half hang. Her eye makeup makes her look like a raccoon and her saturated lipstick smeared like she was in a heavy make-out session. Oh would Debby be surprised how her mothers' reaction would be to all of this. She left the room without disruption. Different from the other times she has left. He hated this.

Joshua hates pointless secrets. Pointless secrets that would ruin someone's whole identity for some issue of being put to shame, it was too much. Overloading on the idea that he had some whores trust. Yeah, just a whore. Joshua sighed loudly, the hot breath of used alcohol and scratchy throat of throwing up cheap vodka. Why did he lead his life to this ugly way of living? Sometimes he wanted to give up, honestly.

"Good Morning, Mister Dun." a chipped monotone voice croaked as Joshua left his messy master bedroom.

"Good morn'..." Joshua mumbled back. He wasn't feeling like it this morning. He dragged his feet to his breakfast bar and poured brewed black coffee. His eyes felt heavy and like they were burning, he probably slept with his contacts in.

"To be frank, Mister Dun, you straight up smell like shit." Sadie commented while fixing herself up a coffee as well.

"Thank you, Sadie," He replied bitterly with a closed-mouth smile.

"It's refreshing you still have an opinion on everything that's shit." murmured Joshua before sipping his bitter black coffee.

She looked back at him, her eyes telling she was doing this out of pure annoyance. She shot back a blank face, "Why thank you, Mister Dun."

Joshua always thought he was never the type to be annoyed at anything but it wasn't his morning of teasing nor pointless indirect harassment. Her 'Mister Dun' still bothered him, but he still wanted to maintain what's left of respect to his name, when it was obvious that he lost that years ago. He stood up and tried to head to his office but ended up with his vision of tiny stars and an annoying headache on the side.

"Don't even trip, Mister Dun." Sadie came up behind him with 3 tablets of painkillers and bottled water.

"nnhg..." Was his thanks to Sadies' usual protective attitude from him passing out either way.

He took the meds and a swig of water with ease, it managed to clear his mind, just a bit. Joshua would be losing his edge if just a headache could break him into a depressive episode. His episodes were always so unpredictable, it drives him mad with irritation that he can't detect his emotions the moment he feels the unnatural funk he's in. It was overall messy and made him even more angry, but he knew it wasn’t his fault, it was just the way his mind became after all the shit he’s gone through. Of course, he wouldn’t blame the situation he was in years ago, it was pointless and just made another excuse for him not to be responsible or be held accountable for his actions as well. Like everything else, it was overall messy and fucked all over.

“Ya’know Sadie…” He slurs out, not caring how he sounds.

She took a guess and decided that this was one of those moments where her boss was heading in a mental direction where most would take meds to get rid of it. But she replied out of sympathy, “Yes, Mister Dun?”

“Don’t you ever wish there was a reset button or a way where time machines exist?” Josh asks as he has a distant look etched on his face. His direction is definitely linear now.

“Well, Mister Dun, such a wish would be taken into abuse and some would most likely lose their whole development as a person for the better. So, in short… no.”

“Fuck… I don’t wanna think right now, Sadie. I don’t care about logic, I don’t care whether what society would do as a whole for a wish like that, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. I d-don’t car-re…” He’s losing it. He’s shaking, stuttering and is becoming scare. Josh puts down his glass of water and sighs. Fuck, it wasn’t suppose to go downhill today, it wasn't suppose to be like any of this.

Sadie feels for him, really. Dealing with a mother who used to blame herself for the life she put herself in was all the maid could remember from living in a small 2 bedroom apartment, but of course Sadie was ashamed of it and never told her Boss and made up a stupid story about beep kicked out and bascially forced out on the streets. Sadie tried to calmly soften her presents.

“I’m sorry, Mister Dun… I didn’t mean to destress you. Can you take a deep breath for me? Will you please try to look at me and focus on my voice?”

Ah, the sweet calming voice. Alway there for comfort and not just to hear our his cries but to also listen. To listen and reason with him during those rough nights. His shaking and tear filled eyes already take all his energy and strength yet it’s barely 7am. Just another example of how the day, once again, slips from his hands and out of his control. All he wants to do is end it, just to end the cycle and regret piling up. 

Just to forget everything and start again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and hopefully sticking around,,
> 
> Remember to leave some love/kudos & comment any suggestions or thoughts !

**Author's Note:**

> ik the ending is a bit rushed,,, isss wahteva at this point. im working on the 2nd chap rn and Oh bOi,, i think i got what it takes.
> 
> Feel free to leave some comments on suggestions &/or kudos :)


End file.
